


Biographical Annotations

by harpydora



Series: Merle Dies at the End [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene, Mostly Canon Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Survivor Guilt, brief mention of john/merle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 06:28:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14466960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harpydora/pseuds/harpydora
Summary: Merle sits on the park bench next to Lucretia under a sky that's almost the purple of a fresh bruise. Overhead, the stars glitter in their alien configurations, and the pinkish glow of the Plane of Magic ripples on the horizon. The only sound is a pitiful breeze ruffling the grass, and Merle's breathing. Lucretia can't quite let herself make noise, even so many years away from the chase. Not when it's already so dark and quiet. Maybe it had been a mistake to follow him out here once the day's work on his autobiography had been done.Finally, Merle speaks. "You asked me to tell you everything, but I didn't."





	Biographical Annotations

**Author's Note:**

> Turns out that after all this time, I still love Merle/Lucretia oops. I've been sitting on this one since last year because I kept waffling on whether I wanted to expand it to be explicit or just post the mature version. Obviously, as I have been cleaning out my WIP folder today, I decided to just post the mature version.
> 
> This nominally takes place in the MDatE series (between MDatE and MLatE), but it's not necessary to read either of them. Just know that's what Merle is referencing when he briefly mentions having a thing with John.
> 
> Anyway, I'm mostly yelling about other things on [Tumblr](http://strangeharpy.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/harpydora), but I'm still always happy to engage in TAZ discussion.

Merle sits on the park bench next to Lucretia under a sky that's almost the purple of a fresh bruise. Overhead, the stars glitter in their alien configurations, and the pinkish glow of the Plane of Magic ripples on the horizon. The only sound is a pitiful breeze ruffling the grass, and Merle's breathing. Lucretia can't quite let herself make noise, even so many years away from the chase. Not when it's already so dark and quiet. Maybe it had been a mistake to follow him out here once the day's work on his autobiography had been done.

Finally, Merle speaks. "You asked me to tell you everything, but I didn't."

Lucretia isn't sure what he's talking about, isn't quite sure the sound of his voice is real in this darkness. She pulls her knees up to her chest and waits.

"I didn't want this stuff in your journals," he continues, and Lucretia lets out a long, slow breath. "I don't want it in my biography, either. But… it feels shitty not letting you know."

"You don't have to say anything you don't want to," she whispers. By the dim, noxious glow of the magic, she sees his profile, sees how he'd angled away from her. "But I'll listen if that's what you want."

The silence drapes itself over them again. Lucretia rests her chin on her knees and wraps her arms around her legs. She barely takes up any space on the bench. 'That's it,' she thinks. Merle won't say anything more and it will be like nothing ever happened. She'll go back to her quarters and squeeze her eyes shut and pretend she can't hear the weight of the quiet.

Merle draws a noisy breath in through his nose and blows it out through his mouth. He takes another breath. "I've been… fooling around. With John." He stops, and Lucretia waits. She is very good at waiting. "It's not… it doesn't happen all the time, but it. Happens." Finally, he turns to face her. She can barely make out the lines of his face, can't even discern his expression.

"I—I knew you weren't telling me everything," she says. It's so hard to raise her voice above a whisper, but she does it for him. There's no way she can leave him alone in the dark with this secret between them. "I didn't know what it was, but I knew."

He nods as if that's what he expected. More sure, he says, "The last time, we fucked."

Lucretia nods in return, accepting the secret. "That's all right," she tells him because it seems like the right thing to say. It's so strange, so right that she's gone from chronicling their lives— _his_ life, right now—to keeping secrets. It seems at once like a incongruous shift and a natural one.

The last of the sunlight has fled from the sky, and into the darkness, pitched only so Merle can hear it, she offers up a secret of her own. "I can't stand the quiet here. It… reminds me. Of when I was alone. When I couldn't make any noise for fear I'd be caught. Especially at night."

Warm fingers brush the back of her hand, and it's too much. She flinches, but before Merle can pull away, she tangles her fingers with his. She pulls his hand up to her face where she can smell the soap he's used and the ink stains on his fingertips and the dry parchment on which he's been writing. It's real. He's here, on this deserted plane, and so is she.

At length, she asks, "Does he—are you alright with it? Doing things with John?"

Merle hums rather than letting silence settle in while he considers, and in that moment Lucretia could kiss him. His fingers tighten around hers. "He started it, but… I can say no whenever, and I don't. Or, didn't. Last time we did it, I cut it off and I don't know how I feel about it."

She rests her cheek against his knuckles. "Don't go back, then. Stay with us. We've got years of data and… I'm working on something. Something I want your help with." When she feels him start to pull away, she shifts to be closer to him on the bench and adds, "Later."

"All right." She thinks he nods. "Okay, I think I can do that. Later." He shifts on the bench, too, until they're hip-to-hip and she can feel how much body warmth he's producing, in contrast to the swiftly oncoming night chill. With nothing else to say, Merle starts humming something low and out of tune, just barely audible.

But it's enough and Lucretia has just a moment to think 'oh' and 'he's doing that for me' before the tears start rolling down her cheeks. It's been so long since she's had a proper cry; and she still can't manage anything more than a shaking, quiet agony; and gods, why did it have to be _this_ , why _here_ , why _now_ , why with Merle? She resents herself so fiercely, but it's too late to stop the flood.

Merle's other arm loops around her and he tugs her close. "It's okay," he tells her. "You're okay."

Something inside Lucretia's chest crumbles. Her shoulders shake with wracking sobs that she can't quite vocalize, but the gulping breaths that come between them make a noise like she's drowning. She turns into Merle's embrace and hunches down to hide her face in his jacket. Distantly, a part of her recognizes the way his beard scratches at her cheek, notices that his jacket has been freshly laundered. Mostly she notices the way he squeezes her tight, the way he mumbles things she can't quite make out, the way he doesn't shush her in an attempt to calm her down. It goes on for what feels like forever until Lucretia is wrung out and sucking down air without the sobs in between breaths.

"You're safe," she finally hears him say. "I've got you. You don't gotta be quiet for me. You're not alone."

The storm has passed, though, and Lucretia straightens enough to wipe her face with the back of one sleeve. She makes a watery sort of laughing noise. "I'm so sorry," she croaks. "I… that happens sometimes. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, we were talking about—"

Merle cuts her off by pressing a finger to her lips. "We weren't talkin' about anything worthwhile."

She shakes her head when he lets his hand drop. "No, that's not true. If it's something you need to get off your chest, it's important. To me."

"It's not a big deal," Merle hedges, but this close she can tell he's turned his face away from her again. Can tell he's probably lying. "It's just me making dumb choices with my dick. That's all."

If it were light out, if she hadn't just sobbed on his shoulder, Lucretia might have let it go. But for tonight, she's not the journal keeper; she's the secret keeper. "You don't have to bullshit me," she says. "I don't care what you've done, I care about you being safe. Being okay. What happened, Merle? Why did you have to say 'no' that last time?"

He freezes, goes quiet; and for a moment fear clenches Lucretia's gut. She's ruined it, hasn't she? She's shredded the tenuous connection between them. Lucretia moves to withdraw and return to her quarters when Merle heaves the sort of sigh that comes from a man about to drop a large weight from his shoulders.

"He and I don't see eye to eye, and not just 'cause he's human and I'm a dwarf," he says. "We're never doing anything so fancy as 'making love.' It's all just being pissy and getting each other off. Except… except this last time, it got… weird.

"He tied me up with some vines he conjured," Merle continues, his voice the only sound for miles and miles. "It was pretty hot, I'm not gonna lie, but…" Lucretia doesn't push, and he starts again on his own. "Y'see, we never talked much about stuff like that, and it didn't hit me 'til later: how'd he know? And… it's fucked up. I think he knows because there was… there was this _gal_ y'know? Really pretty. And she and I talked, and we did stuff, and…" He stops.

Lucretia strains to make out his expression in the dark. It seems unfair that he should be able to see her face when she can't see his, but she tries her best to keep her own expression open and inviting and nonjudgmental. That's all the encouragement she offers, though. Anything more and Merle might never get this out.

"We fucked, and it was pretty rough, but all that's not even the weirdest part. It's always rough, even though we never fucked before. But after that, when we were done and he usually kills me, he just… didn't."

"What _did_ he do?" she asks as gently as she can (and it is oh-so-gently, even in the wake of her horrible outburst).

"He was real…" Merle pauses, searching for the word. Lucretia's heart races in anxious anticipation because there aren't any scenarios she can imagine that end well. Finally, Merle says, "He was almost nice. Like we were friends, or maybe even lovers. Like he gave a shit."

"Sweet Mystra," Lucretia breathes. "That's—"

"Awkward as hell?" Merle suggests, and she thinks she can trace a thread of bitterness in his voice.

"I was going to say 'shitty and manipulative,'" Lucretia says. "But that, too. Damn."

"The fucked up thing is I might've fallen for it," Merle says with a chuckle that's more self-effacing than humorous. It makes Lucretia's heart hurt. "Part of me thinks that maybe we _are_ friends. So, like I said. Nothing worthwhile."

"Oh, Merle…" She squirms until she's less half-turned toward him and more facing him properly, then wraps her arms around his torso in an awkward hug. At first he resists, but it only takes a few seconds for him to soften and reciprocate.

"What about you, huh?" he asks. "Doesn't seem right that I'm the only one spilling my guts."

"Isn't it enough that I told you I hate it when it's dark and quiet? Like a little kid," Lucretia says, though she knows he's right. It isn't fair that he's shared so much and she's shared so little. When he doesn't respond, she hugs him tighter. "Promise me you won't tell anyone," she says.

"I swear I won't," Merle agrees. "And if I ever did, you have my permission to tell dos horny twins whatever you want about me and John."

That startles a laugh out of Lucretia that's so loud and sharp that she lets go of Merle and claps both hands over her mouth as if that's enough to keep anyone from hearing. Her heart pounds in her chest, the sound so loud in her ears that she thinks it must be audible across the entire godsforsaken plane.

Merle rubs his hands up and down Lucretia's upper arms and makes general soothing syllables. "I know, I know, it's scary how funny I am," he says. "I gotta be more careful when I'm using that ol' Highchurch sense of humor."

"I killed eight men," Lucretia blurts out around her trembling fingers. "I found a crossbow once and shot two in the head. I killed one in a trap. I killed one with a fireball. I killed one with a knife. I killed three of them with my bare hands."

Merle's hands stop above Lucretia's elbows. "Fuck."

"I don't know how many more I wounded," she continues. Somehow, she's shaking but her voice is steady. "I probably killed more, but those are the ones I saw. And sometimes, when I sleep, I can see them still. And sometimes I see other people from that plane and they're judging me for letting them get consumed because I couldn't do it. I couldn't stay alive _and_ not hurt anyone _and_ find the light. So I just... stayed alive. And I just… Merle, even if Lup's right and we can get everyone back that the Hunger took… the people I killed are _dead_ and I did that. And they won't come back. I killed them just so I could keep going." Her breath hitches, and that seems like the cue for the flood of words to halt.

Merle gives her arms a squeeze. "It's okay. You did that pretty well, and that's the only reason we're all here."

She nods, but she can't bring herself to divulge anything else. The night is thick enough with things they'll never tell anyone else. Instead, she says, "Merle, I don't want to be alone tonight."

"Me neither," he agrees.

She takes a shivering breath to steady herself even though it feels like she'll shake herself apart. It's only the mutually assured destruction of knowing each others' dark things that gives her the strength to say what she does next. "Merle… I don't want to be quiet tonight, either."

Very solemnly, Merle places one rough palm on her cheek. His thumb wipes away the remnants of her tears, gone crusty and gross under her eyes. It's embarrassing, but she leans into the touch ever so slightly. Merle whispers, "You don't have to be."

*

There are a multitude of reasons why they don't retire to the _Starblaster_ , several of them being named Magnus, Taako, Lup, Barold, and Davenport. Some of the others are named things like 'Lucretia's anxiety' and 'lack of a bunk large enough to be comfortable.' Merle might be able to do a lot of things in the Parley Parlor, but he'd rather not test his limits on the Prime Material Plane.

Lucretia conjures a light and they find a quaint house nearby with a view of the serene ocean and a bed large enough to fit four people upstairs. It only takes a couple of cleaning cantrips to make it liveable, and Merle doesn't hesitate to fling himself down on the coverlet and waggle his eyebrows in Lucretia's direction.

"If that's the face you're going to make all night, I'm dismissing the light spell," Lucretia says while trying to smother her smile behind one hand.

He reaches up, grabs her wrist, and pulls her down onto the bed with him. "I don't need the light to see you," he says. His voice is low and filled with wanting and it makes Lucretia's heart flutter. She snuffs the light out.

Lucretia has spent more time than she cares to admit to imagining what a night with Merle might be like, but all of her fantasies fly out the window when she feels Merle's mouth on hers. For all of his bravado and his cavalier attitude toward others sometimes, his lips are soft and he doesn't press on until he's invited. His hands stay on her arms until Lucretia makes an impatient noise in the back of her throat and shoves Merle's jacket off his shoulders.

He gets the hint, swearing a little under his breath as his fingers try and fail to work the buttons of Lucretia's own uniform. Between the two of them, they manage, though there is nothing elegant about the way their uniforms end up in a haphazard pile on the ground. When they're down to their underthings (Lucretia in her bra and panties, Merle in his boxers), Merle pauses and lets out a soft, low whistle. "Would ya look at that," he says in clear appreciation of Lucretia's body. She's never been more glad of having skin dark enough to hide her blush.

"I can't look at anything," she mumbles. It's hard not to cross her arms or pull her legs up to her chest again, even though she wants this so badly she can taste it.

"You can turn the lights on any time," Merle teases. "You're missin' some pretty amazing sights over here."

"I think I'm just fine," she says, because she's seen him shirtless plenty, and something feels so much more intimate now that she isn't alone in the darkness. But she still smiles at the joke and leans forward to run her hands over his chest.

He meets her halfway, kissing her again while his hands skim up her sides and around her back. She's so focused on her own exploration that she doesn't realize what he's doing until he's been at it a moment. By then, she can't help but giggle.

He pauses. "What?" It isn't difficult to hear the pout in his voice.

She reaches behind herself, takes Merle's hands in her own, and guides them to between her breasts. "Front closure, Merle," she tells him serenely, but there's no keeping the amusement off her face.

He starts mumbling something involving the words 'complicated' and 'lingerie' but Lucretia kisses him before he can get much further into the thought than that.

When they break apart, he leans back against the headboard and drags her on top of him so that she's straddling his hips. If she'd doubted his intentions before, it's impossible to mistake them from this position, even through both layers of their underwear.

Merle rests his hands on her hips for a moment and hums in appreciation. "When was the last time someone was lucky enough to see ya like this?" he asks.

The lie is on the tip of her tongue: 'I don't remember,' but she does. The woman—Margaret—had been sweet and Lucretia had been lonely, and Lucretia had made a point of tidying the place a little before she slipped out of Margaret's tiny room at the cramped inn. "Three cycles ago," she admits. "But it didn't amount to much. A roll on the hay before we left."

While she'd been woolgathering, Merle's hands drifted upward, and his thumbs circling her nipples drag her back to the present. He makes another appreciative hum at her response. "Guess that makes me luckier, since I know I'll see you again once we ditch this place."

She huffs out a laugh that's half cut off by a gasp when Merle squeezes her breasts. In retaliation, she grinds her hips down on his erection. She shakes her head. "You haven't gotten lucky yet."

"Feels pretty lucky from where I'm sitting," he says amicably.

"Oh, well, I'll just go in that case," Lucretia teases as she moves to sling herself off of him. When Merle's hands drop to her hips to keep her in place, she smirks. "Not feeling lucky enough, then?" She grinds down on him again, pulling a strangled chuckle from his throat.

"You're killing me here," Merle says. "Why do you have to tease me like this?"

"You're the one who left our underwear on," she points out.

"When you said you didn't want to be alone tonight, I thought you meant the whole night." Lascivious promise colors his words; Lucretia can imagine the grin on his face. "Besides, I figured we'd start out soft before trying to get loud."

And Lucretia thinks 'oh' while Merle moves under her, and in due time, they are very loud indeed.

*

Morning comes, and they pick up their clothing off the floor. Merle prays for his spells while Lucretia cleans up, and she leaves a sink of freshly conjured water in the bathroom for Merle to use once he's done. In a fit of domesticity, Lucretia straightens the covers on the bed and spends another cleaning cantrip to ensure the bedding is as good as new.

They don't say much, which is fine. It's easier to handle the silence by the light of day. And after everything they talked about last night, what's one more secret between them?


End file.
